“True,” K’dan said, glancing down at the thick leaves and branches supporting him. “Life here does seem a bit insubstantial.”
“Airy,” R’ney agreed.
“It would be nice to have a proper Weyr,” X’lerin said.
“So what would we buy with our gold?” Xhinna asked, bringing the conversation back to solid ground.
“Bandages and medical supplies,” K’dan said immediately. “Bekka’s made a list.”
“Clothing,” R’ney said. “Fabric and needles.” Aressil had proved to be a dab hand with tanning, and she and R’ney had quickly turned Cliova, Aliyal, Hannah, and J’sarte into competent tanners—although the older weyrlings preferred their healer lessons to the smelly, hot work of tanning leather.
“We’d do better hunting if we could get proper bows and arrows,” X’lerin added. “P’nallo’s done very well with what we have, but he swears that steel-tipped barbs would give us twice as many kills.”
“We’re having to fly farther and farther to find game,” R’ney added.
“We can talk about that later,” Xhinna said. “When will we get our first grams of gold?”
“I have a kilo of dust bagged and ready,” R’ney told her, smiling happily at her surprise.
X’lerin chuckled loudly, pointing at Xhinna’s face. “And you wonder why I made you a wingleader!”
“What?” Xhinna said.
“A kilo!” X’lerin repeated, shaking his head at R’ney and chuckling again at Xhinna’s look. “Who else would have a wingsecond like that?”
“Blue rider,” V’lex said, nodding respectfully as he sat down opposite Xhinna. When X’lerin had told her that he was sending the green rider to talk with her, she’d been surprised and just a bit skeptical.
But now J’keran’s favorite was in front of her, a respectful, apologetic look on his face.
“I know who’s been taking our stuff,” he said in a rush.
“I do, too,” Xhinna replied.
“And?”
“I don’t like thieves,” she said. Seeing him about to protest, she raised a hand as she added, “But I won’t let dragonriders—or their dragons—starve.” She paused, watching his reaction, then asked, “Have you seen them recently?”
V’lex shook his head. “J’keran’s changed, Wingleader. He’s a different man.”
“Sober?”
“He’s given up the rotgut,” V’lex temporized. He paused for a moment, looking this way and that, not meeting her eyes before he said, “T’rennor’s Kisorth will clutch soon.” He slid his eyes up to meet hers. “X’lerin says that he’s put you in charge of the Hatching.”
So, Xhinna thought in surprise, you’ve grown a spine while J’keran’s been gone. The V’lex of old would never have dared criticize the brown rider. And his interest in Kisorth’s clutch—Xhinna made a note to keep an eye on the two green riders; it seemed that V’lex had taken a stronger interest in T’rennor than she would have thought possible, which might have important consequences for the whole weyr.
Green and blue riders, she was discovering, were hard to keep in one category. With browns it was even more so. Only the bronzes and queens were steadfast in their preferences. The rider of a female green could be the dominant partner in a relationship, although that role was more prevalent among blue riders. And while the male riders of greens were more likely to prefer male partners, it wasn’t always the case. Based on her experience of the past four Turns, the only thing that seemed certain to Xhinna was that when dragons rose to mate, passions flowed freely, with the controlling passion being that of the dragon’s over the rider. At all other times, riders were free to follow their own hearts.
“We need every dragon on Pern,” Xhinna said. “Bronze, brown, gold, but particularly green and blue.”
“Green and blue?”
“Green rider, you and I both know which dragons make up the bulk of the Weyrs,” Xhinna said. “Which ones fly the most Falls, take the most injuries, work the hardest without fail?”
“Blues and greens,” V’lex replied, a light shining in his eyes. “The browns and bronzes do their bit, but they’re always bigger, they find everything easier.”
“Well,” Xhinna said with a slight smile, “they’d rather have to, being so big and clumsy.” She shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong! We need the browns and the bronzes, we need their stamina, their strength, but—” She raised a hand and opened it, gesturing questioningly. “—how do you think they’d fare if they flew Thread alone?”
“Not well,” V’lex admitted. “Why my Sarinth and I have been through more Falls than—” He broke off, reddening and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Wingleader,” he said. “It’s not your fault that you were too young and your dragon too new to fight a Threadfall.”
“But I will,” Xhinna said. “And when I do—when we do, Tazith and I, we’ll be counting on you older riders to guide us while we newer riders will be doing all we can to support you.” She paused, then added, “Just as you’ve been doing with T’rennor.”
V’lex nodded. He glanced up at her, really looked in her eyes, and she saw something new, something different in him. V’lex might never be the sort that Xhinna could like personally, but his half Turn of flying Thread had made him someone she would respect.
“J’keran said you were a coward in that fight,” V’lex said, eyeing her carefully.
“I was,” Xhinna said. “I was wearing only a tunic and I was trying to convince him that I wasn’t his enemy. I didn’t want to fight and, in the end, I didn’t fight—I was trying to show him that the eggs were hollow, that the tunnel snakes had gotten to them.”
“That’s what I said,” V’lex told her. She didn’t think the green rider had told J’keran that from the start, though. She imagined that this admission was from a more recent conversation. “But, you know, he said that the eggs weren’t hollow, that the one you tried to knife was full.”
“If it was, it didn’t hatch,” Xhinna said. “Only five eggs were good.”
“But he said that egg was full,” V’lex repeated, shaking his head. “He told T’rennor that—” He broke off suddenly, realizing he’d said too much, and dropped his gaze to the ground.
“But T’rennor’s not listening to him anymore, is he?” Xhinna asked softly. V’lex looked up at her and nodded. “He’s listening to you.” The green rider said nothing. “And so what matters is what you’re going to tell him.”
“It shouldn’t be this hard,” V’lex said grumpily. “A rider should rise and flame, throw firestone, burn Thread, and rest.” He frowned again. “And greens aren’t supposed to fall in love with other greens.”
“Perhaps that was the tradition,” Xhinna said, and he looked up at her questioningly. “Traditions are good when the times are the same.” She made a gesture, throwing the question to him.
“But times aren’t the same,” he said, finding some new hope in that realization. “If they were, we wouldn’t have the greens clutching.” He licked his lips and continued hastily, “If my Sarinth were still young, hadn’t chewed firestone, then she’d be clutching, too.”
Xhinna nodded, not quite certain what point the green rider was trying to make, but supporting him in his effort.
“And my green would have hatchlings,” V’lex said in a voice that stirred strong emotions in Xhinna’s gut. Oh, yes, she knew this emotion, she understood this man suddenly with a feeling of great clarity. V’lex wanted children. More than that, he wanted children for his beloved green. And if she couldn’t have them, then he wanted them for those who could, like Kisorth.